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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945636">Like Pearls Before Swine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo'>Neila_Nuruodo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Deception, Gen, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Possession</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:56:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>5.3 spoilers!</p><p>There is no cessation, no oblivion.  Only expulsion.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like Pearls Before Swine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not speculation.  This is a vent fic.  It is not nice to the Exarch.  What it is is an exercise to expel some of my bitterness.  So please, if you rather like the Exarch, do yourself a favor and read something else.  There is nothing for you here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rapid footfalls, echoing on the crystal.  Sharp cracks swelling louder and louder.  A pause, brief silence, and the vast doors rumble open.  The steps resume, slowing as they reach the throne.</p><p>Sleepy eyes crack open, greeted by the brilliant glow of the soul vessel.  Even as a question wells in those red eyes, the answer—memory—arrives.</p><p>"It's you."  The voice is rusty from disuse.  A cough clears the worst of the grit from it.  "How are you…"</p><p>The smile that answers him is bright and joyous as the sun.  Again, memory, slowly assimilated, answers his question ere he can finish it.  His own smile blossoms, less bright but just as true.</p><p>"Well, then."  He raises his hand, the motion stiff.  "Mind helping me up?"</p><p>It is a moment, after gaining his feet, before he has the balance to walk.  Feet braced wide, he nonetheless reaches out to pick up the soul vessel with care.  Turning the now-dull but still lovely crystal in his hands, he smiles up at his companion.</p><p>"I think I should keep this.  For now, at least."</p><p>A grin and nod convey vigorous agreement, and he places the vessel carefully in a pouch.  An exploratory step yields positive results, encouraging him to take another, and another.</p><p>Together they walk, one slow from the stiffness of a disused body, the other slow from attempts to aid him.  Though slow, their progress is steady, punctuated by chatter—soon cut off as the Miqo'te's state of exhaustion becomes undeniably obvious.</p><p>Once outside, the weary and still-awakening man insists on binding the doors with a stubborn determination that rivals that of his companion.  Thwarted by implacable logic, the warrior turns instead to summoning a chocobo; this the now-exhausted Miqo'te accepts gratefully, plainly too overdrawn to argue the ride or the help into the saddle.</p><p>Their arrival in Mor Dhona is triumphant.</p><p>Though the other Scions are yet weak from their extended rest, they could not resist the urge to spread the good news; the crowd is already abuzz with excitement when they come into view of the gate.  The festive mood boils over into shouts, cheers, and cries of joy and welcome greeting the heroes of two worlds.  They accept the accolades with tolerant cheer, progress slowed nearly to a halt by the suddenly dense crowd.  A slow but sure pace sees them to the door of the Rising Stones, where they make their excuses and retire.</p><p>At the door to his hastily appointed chamber, the Miqo'te weathers the good-natured ribbing of friends and acquaintances amused that he has awoken so recently yet must needs return to sleep.  Finally the well-wishers relent, and he makes his heavy way to the room's bed, tugging free the soul vessel and setting it on the bedside table.</p><p>A deep sigh, ephemerally soft, accompanies his weary movements as he slips free of just enough clothing to recline comfortably before easing back, settling himself upon the pillow and mattress in comfort.  He picks up the crystal, turning it in the near-darkness to see light, slipping from under the door, glint off its facets.  He smiles.</p>
<hr/><p>What a day, Elidibus thinks.  Aether wraps around the crystal, dispelling the glamour to reveal the glow yet pulsing within it, the light of his mind, his memories and soul, gleaming in the dim room.  Weariness makes concentration an effort as he envisions a necklace, decorative and commemorative of the vessel itself—red memory-bearing gems linking a thick cord to an arrowhead of blue crystal.  Slowly the soul vessel reforms, shifting and transmuting to match the vision in his mind.  With a sigh, part weary and part satisfied, he fastens the clasp behind his nape.  What a day.</p><p>It would be easy enough to play this newest role, having assimilated the Exarch's memories in his attempts to summon warriors who might defeat the so-called Warrior of Darkness.  Seeing his forces crushed as the Scions had blazed a path toward the tower had spurred a rather desperate backup plan.</p><p>He had had no idea if inscribing his own memories within the crystal would succeed, especially without a way to funnel his soul into it as well should the worst come to pass and he fall before the rapidly-approaching Warrior.  But neither could he risk the possibility of utter failure.</p><p>Too much rested upon him.</p><p>Fortunately, somehow, it had worked.  Drawn into the tower, he had become linked inextricably with it, and then the Exarch had fully crystallized, his agency fading with his flesh.</p><p>Leaving him in sole charge.</p><p>And from there, it had been no trouble to rejoin his soul to his memories, that beacon resonating within the vastness of the Crystal Tower, calling him.  Guiding him home.  He knew not how long he had rested within the Warrior’s care, traversing the rift via the portal created by the Exarch for just that purpose, biding in blind darkness.  Resonance had plucked his dark musings to wakeful attention, and he had tethered himself to the Exarch’s own memories and soul, taking charge of the vessel and gently easing the other into a dreamless sleep so he might execute his plans undisturbed.</p><p>And as deeply as he has studied those memories in the interim, he dares hope he can play the role.</p><p>The return of the memories stored within his comrades’ crystals has rejuvenated him, so much so that at first he had feared he might betray himself.  But it seems the Exarch is a much younger man, here and now—and, he realizes, he shall have to call himself G'raha now, for that is what his adversary would have done.  It will be a simple enough thing.  No doubt he can paint any missteps as uncertainty born of his new circumstances.</p><p>After all, G'raha wants more than anything to adventure alongside the Warrior of Light.  And so he shall…  And so he shall.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are you certain?”</p><p>G’raha smiles.  “Do go on ahead.  I will be right along.”</p><p>He watches as Krile and the Warrior depart, the smile lingering at their concern.  Certainly reinforcing the tower’s wards had taken a lot out of him, but their worry is touching nonetheless.  He sighs, stretching, then picks up his new weapon, feeling the way it interacts with the aether about him.  The crystal cluster at its top winks in the lantern light, bringing another smile to his lips.  Perhaps, in time, he shall be able to draw on its strength in battle, once the connection is sufficiently grown…</p><p>But for now he is weary from his aetherial exertions, and hungry to boot.  Unusual… he shall have to get accustomed to that once more.  Slinging his weapon across his back, he follows their footsteps, emerging into sunlight on the high walkway.</p><p>The Scions are already arrayed, several of them bearing new clothing and armaments courtesy of their friends and allies—welcome-home presents.  Urianger is speaking with the Warrior as he approaches.</p><p>“By Mistress Krile’s exhausted state, may I assume that the ward’s strength hath been reinforced?”</p><p>Heads turn to him as he reaches the top of the steps descending to the balcony level.  Nervousness rises, bubbling in his blood, and he forces a smile onto his face.  “Indeed.  We succeeded in strengthening its weave, though it is not quite so potent as when I had Beq Lugg’s assistance.  It is no cause for concern, though.  The tower is not easily reached, never mind breached.  And even should some few succeed, their presence won’t escape my notice.”</p><p>“Excellent.”  Urianger’s satisfaction is plain in his tone.  “Said duty thus discharged, thou art free to go wheresoever thy fancy taketh thee.  Upon which note—hast thou perchance come to a decision?  The offer remaineth open.”</p><p>The nerves sharpen, spiked with excitement now.  The chance to join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn…  To be a hero in truth, rather than simply holding down the fort.  Memory awakens, of dreams held in youth, of hopes for adventure and heroism.  His hands twist before him.  “Well...if you’re certain that’s what you...I-I mean, if you think I…”</p><p>He trails off as his eyes light on the Warrior.  Arms crossed over chest, a piercing look lances through him, softened by a smile and a tipped eyebrow, making his heart trip and flutter and soar.  His ears drop as he suddenly fears the offer might be rescinded.  A hard swallow, a deep breath, and he forges ahead to seize his dreams.  “Right.  I accept.  Henceforth, I shall count myself a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.  G’raha Tia, at your service.”</p><p>His proclamation greeted by smiles, he descends the stairs to join the rest of the Scions (yes, he thinks, he, too, is a Scion now, and how the thought makes his heart soar).  Drawn into the group, his heart warms as he reminisces upon those cherished dreams from so long ago.  With the Warrior of Light to raise him up, mayhap he will find them now within his grasp.</p><p> </p>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As I was writing this, I found not only the parallels but the <i>overlap</i> between Exarch/G'raha and Elidibus to be almost disturbingly blatant.  I don't by any means think this story will be predictive of where the story will go—this would be a step backward for Elidibus's character.  But I cannot help but see the phoenix imagery surrounding him, and wonder...</p><p>Thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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